The Fortunate Unfortuante Lives of Gavin Detroit and Albus Potter
by TealLife
Summary: Everyone dies, Gavin and Albus just seem to be going a bit faster than everyone else. Despite this, no matter how short their lives were, Gavin and Albus planned on *living*
1. Jane's Disease

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

However, I do own Gavin

**Chapter 1: Jane's disease**

**Author's Note: Jane's disease is not a real disease, though it may sound close to the systems of actual diseases. That being said, if you do find yourselves to have these symptoms, please see a doctor.**

*******Albus Potter*******

I'm sick. I don't mean the common cold either, where you can just take a Pepper Up potion and be done with it. I also don't mean like the flu where all you have to do is empty the contents of your stomach and try to eat bread. No, I'm _really _sick. I am actually going to die.

I'm not afraid of death so much as I'm afraid that I won't have enough time to _live. _More importantly though, I'm afraid that I won't have enough time to make an impact or do something amazing. When I'm gone, I want to be remembered for doing and being something great. It's hard to do that when you don't have a lot of time, though. When I first found out about my illness I had started thinking about all the things I'd never get to do, but I don't care about all that now. Now, I just want to be missed.

At this point, I'm not ready to die yet, because I haven't done anything life changing. When my dad was my age he was the icon of the Wizarding World and fighting to save everyone. What was I doing? Sitting and learning about spells that I would never get the chance to use.

I'm sure if I told anyone these thoughts that they would help me out a bit with charity events and things, but I couldn't tell anyone. Why? Because no one even knows I'm sick.

That's impossible! Most would say, but it really wasn't. I found out I was sick last year when I went to St. Mungos for a regular check-up. My parents had been busy and despite their many protests, I had insisted I was old enough to go alone. So I went to St. Mungos expecting to be told I was perfectly healthy and to come back if any problems arose, but that wasn't what happened. I can still remember the whole thing perfectly

_Healer John came back into the room with a grim face that immediately had me nervous. He didn't say anything to me for a while, but he did stare at me intently. I didn't say anything either, waiting._

"_Are your parents here with you, Albus?" Healer John asked me and I shook my head. Maybe they needed to sign something? The aging Healer sighed and came closer to me with a sad look, putting his hand on my shoulder. My nervous skyrocketed. This was exactly the type of thing that happened on Muggle T.V. when they told someone they were dying, but I couldn't be dying. Right?_

"_Albus, you are very ill." Healer John began and I waited, my heart beating too quickly. "You have Jane's disease, Albus, I am very sorry." He said and I stared at him blankly._

"_I have what?" My voice was anxious, but then again, I had been just told that I had some kind of disease and I really wasn't feeling too comfy._

"_Jane's disease. It is a fatal disease involving vomiting, fainting, seizing, nerve failure, and eventually heart failure." Healer John told me and I continued to stare at him blankly. I was going to die?_

"_Now, these symptoms I previously mentioned won't start for another year, maybe two, if you're lucky, but when they do there will be some things you'll need to be ready for. Are you ready to hear them?" Healer John continued and I nodded numbly, not sure what to say._

"_You'll start feeling sick first. Vomiting and nausea will begin to occur randomly and regularly, but usually after meals or in the middle of the night, but it is different for each patient. The next symptom is fainting or dizziness which will typically occur after standing, but it can happen very suddenly as well. Once the disease moves farther along, the vomiting and the fainting will come more often and sometimes together. That is when you will need someone else with you to keep you from choking and suffocating on your own bile." Healer John paused for a moment when I cringed, but continued on again quickly._

"_Much later in the disease, you will have a harder time controlling your limbs and will fall or knock things over more and more often until you become completely paralyzed and then eventually a heart attack will occur that will end your life. On most cases, however, patients don't reach the part in the illness where they become paralyzed. They simply die of a heart attack." Healer John finished and I just stared at him, taking in every sign of age that he showed. The thought that I would never get that old seemed ludicrous._

"_What about treatments? Cures?" I questioned, scrambling for any chance at growing old and Healer John frowned slightly._

"_There is no current cure of Jane's disease, but there are many treatments that have been set up, but the percent that make it out of the disease alive is very low." Healer John said._

"_What percent?" I asked and Healer John sighed, rubbing his old face._

"_Zero percent." The aging Healer told me and I stared at him._

"_That's it? I'm just going to die a violent, disgusting death?" I couldn't believe it. I was going to die! How was this even possible? I had been perfectly healthy for years, why did this have to happen now?_

"_Well," Healer John said slowly and he immediately regained my attention, "some patients choose to take the treatments and medication to try and live, but most do it to help us discover a cure from the body the leave behind. " I just looked at Healer John. Was this guy trying to dissuade me from trying the treatment? _

"_Right, I can see you're interested. " Healer John said and it took everything I had not to snort. Damn straight, I was interested._

"_There are a few potions that we have been trying, each unique to the person with Jane's disease, as every immune system is different, therefore every disease occurs differently in each patient. Like I said, these treatments are not a cure, but they do tend to make patients more comfortable until that final heart failure. Some patients even live a few years longer than what was originally expected, taking the potion, but others also die more quickly. It is very complicated and I don't-"I cut Healer John off._

"_I'll try it and if I die, I'll let you Healers study my body too. Anything that gives me a chance to live a little longer." I said with vigor. The treatment sounded like a good idea to me. It would either prolong the inevitable or help save future victims of the disease. I liked the idea of saving lives like my dad._

"_Well, alright, I'll send an owl to the Healers working on the treatment. They will send you a few vials with instructions on treatment for while the summer is still going, but when you get back to school, the school nurse will provide the medication." Healer John explained and I nodded._

"_How much will it cost?" I questioned, thinking ahead of how I was going to pay for it, but Healer John shook his head._

"_Many charity funds have been set up for finding a cure for Jane's disease. The treatment will be free." He said and I nodded again before standing._

_Healer John spoke to me more about the symptoms of Jane's disease and also warned me a little about the effects of the treatment, but I wasn't worried. Sure, I hated the thought of dying so early, but all I could think about was how much I wanted to _live.

My parents still hadn't gotten home by the time the owl Healer John told me about arrived and so I was able to keep the treatment for my illness a secret. I also managed to intercept the letter the old Healer wrote for my parents about my disease. They didn't need to know. It was mostly to protect them. Dad would somehow find a way to blame himself and mom would treat me like glass. I couldn't tell my siblings either. James would go all big brother on me and start trying to act as my personal body guard and Lily would cry. I hated when Lily cried.

So I didn't tell them that their son and brother, Albus Potter, was dying. I didn't tell anyone. With the family fame it would probably be all over the Daily Prophet for weeks and a few more charities would probably rise up in my honor as well, but I still never said a word. I didn't want to be treated like a piece of china.

I was going to play Quidditch until I couldn't hold myself on a broom anymore. I was going to ride my board until my legs could no longer hold me up and I had to have Delilah pull me along, sitting. I was going to eat all of my favorite foods and then throw it all up later until I couldn't take it anymore. I was going to faint and call it an unscheduled nap. No one would know what was happening until my heart stopped. At least, that was the plan.

*******Gavin Detroit*******

I have Jane's disease and I am going to die. I am going to vomit, faint, lose control of my limbs, and then die. That is what I have to look forward to for the next year of my life. Oh and this next year of my life that I'm talking about? It also happens to be my last.

I am a bitter person. My mum is a drug addict, my step father is an ass, and my real dad is who the hell knows where. Not with my mum and I, like he's supposed to be, that's for damn sure. Add all that together with the fact that I'm going to kick the bucket in a year and you have my life. I think many people would agree that I have a bloody fantastic reason to be bitter. Then again, every single reason I just named happens to be a secret to everyone. Well except for Albus.

Albus Potter is my best friend. Hands down. No questions. I also bloody hate his guts. Well, not really, but sometimes. Albus and I were kind of forced to be friends by fate. See, before last year, we loathed each other equally and with so much vigor that it ended us up in multiple detentions for dueling. That was before we started the treatment for our disease though.

Albus and I both found out that we were sick around the same time. Though we didn't know this until we came back to school and kept seeing each other in the Hospital Wing after an intense Quidditch game that caused our stress to kick in some of the symptoms or to take our potion. After a while we got sick of the coincidence of seeing each other and we got into a fight. I remember it because Albus had really pissed me off with how calm he was. Plus, he was just too bloody smart for me to be comfortable around him back then.

"_What the hell are you doing here, Potter? I'm sick of seeing your face." I had spat and he had just looked at me with a stupid little grin, his head turned to the side before he shook it in amusement._

"_The same as you, Gavin. I'm dying."_

That had been the first time Albus had ever called me by first name and it was what made me believe him so quickly. We didn't become friends immediately after that, we actually ignored each other, but a various chain of events changed that.

After a Quidditch game, Gryffindor-Ravenclaw, Albus had caught the Snitch (as usual, the little bastard) and shortly after getting off his broom he collapsed. The Gryffindor team started freaking out; all of them being related to Albus, and the Slytherins started making jibes. I used to be a part of those Slytherins, but I knew what it was like to just drop like that. To feel so helpless, so I ran over, I helped him up, and I took him to the Hospital Wing. We've been best friends ever since.

Of course, we still get into a lot of arguments, which Albus typically wins (he's a smart ass, really), but we have each other's backs now. Plus, I'm grateful to him and his family. Despite how rushed our friendship had begun, I was still able to stay with the Potters when my dick of a step-father kicked me out. We had only started being friends that year, but already Albus was like my brother.

Of course, his older brother, James was a little bitch to me, but I didn't care too much about that. His little sister Lily was cute though. Not in an "I'm attracted to her" manner, but more of she was like my own little sister. If I had one, of course. Besides, there wasn't any time for dating. I was an attractive bloke and could probably get a girl pretty easily, but there was no point if I was going to fall in love with her only to break her heart with my death.

Albus always likes to go off on rants, when I get like this. By "this" I mean get all negative. I am a very negative person; I would have thought he'd have realized that by now. Anyway, Albus is more of a positive person. He really believes that we have a chance at living, but I'm not like that. I'm going to die. I don't know about Albus, he might live, he probably will actually. He's too good of a guy to die, but I'm scum of the earth, I could die any moment and no one will miss me like they'll miss Albus.

I hope Albus lives. He deserves to live. When we first started talking, one of the first things we discussed was our mortality. I had gone on a long rant on how the world wasn't fair and how angry I was that I'd never get a chance to prove my worthless step-father wrong. That I _was _worth something, but not Albus.

Albus Potter is one of the most selfless people I have ever met. After I was done talking, Albus spoke very calmly. He talked about how afraid he was of being forgotten. He didn't want to die, because he hadn't done anything huge. That was why he didn't want to die. Let me repeat that: he didn't want to die, because he hadn't changed the world. What sixteen-seventeen year old thinks like that? I guess that's what happens when your dad is the Wizarding World's savior. Wish I could have had a dad like that. Maybe then I wouldn't have turned out as fucked up as I did.

It didn't matter though, because I have Albus now, and he has me. We have each other's back. I'm going to help him make that impact and he's going to help me become a better person. Of course I still planned on doing my best to score as many goals for Slytherin in Quidditch so we could crush him despite Albus catching the Snitch for Gryffindor, but other than that I had his back. It didn't matter that Albus and I were sick, because we were going to live like we weren't. Everyone dies at some point anyway, right? Besides, Gavin Detroit, doesn't go down without a fight.


	2. The Handsome Dying Men

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

**Author's Note: Jane's Disease is not real, though the symptoms are and if you are experiencing any of these symptoms you should talk to a doctor.**

**Chapter Two: The Handsome Dying Men**

***Albus***

I was in the Hospital Wing when I woke up. This happened far too often for me to be surprised. Sitting up, I looked down at my arm to see an I.V. sticking into it. I.V.s in the wizarding world are extremely rare, mostly because there aren't very many illnesses that require them, but when you have Jane's disease, I.V.s are the fastest way of getting substances into your body.

"You look like shit, Potter." I grin slightly and turn to the right to see Gavin sitting in one of the visiting chairs. He's leaning back with his feet propped up on the bed and his hands behind his head. He looks like he's sleeping.

"Your eyes aren't even open, Gavin." I tell him and he smirks slightly, not bothering to open his eyes.

"That's because you always look like shit, Albus." Gavin laughed and opened his eyes in time to see me roll my eyes.

"Sure, Detroit. That's exactly why every girl in Hogwarts drops her panties when I walk in the room." I retort and he snorts.

"Dude, don't ever say the word panties again. You sound like a douche and that's coming from me." Gavin said, finally leaning forward. I nod my head and turn away from him towards the front of the Hospital Wing.

"How long have I been in here?" I ask finally, rubbing my eyes with my right hand before bringing it up and running it through my hair, which I am sure, is standing up all over the place. Got to thank dad for that one, but hey, at least I'm handsome.

"Just four hours." Gavin said with a wave of the hand, but he's frowning and now, so am I.

"That's two and a half hours longer than last time. I'm getting worse," I pause for a moment, before continuing, "Did Madam Pomphry-"

"Give you your medicine? Yeah, what else did you think was going through that I.V., dipshit?" Gavin questioned and despite his joking manner, I know he's worried. I am too.

"When can I leave?" I wonder and right then Madam Pomphry comes walking in, her wand already out and waving. With a sharp pain, my I.V. is out and the wound is healing before so much as a drop of blood can seep out, it's closed. I rub my arm where the cut used to be still feeling the aftermath of the sting.

"You can leave now, Mr. Potter and please take Mr. Detroit with you. He's been in here snoring all day." I stifle a laugh at the school nurse's obvious dislike for Gavin and start to get up. I feel sweaty and gross. All I want is to take a shower and ride around on my skateboard for a few hours. Trouble is: I don't know what time it is.

"It's nearly nine, so it's after dark, but don't worry, your brother brought your board down so that you could ride around a little along with the map so you won't get caught. It'll probably be even cooler to ride around in the dark." Gavin tells me, almost as if he read my mind, and I nod feeling a sudden rush of appreciation for my older brother along with a wave of guilt. James didn't even know that I was sick and he was still trying to take care of me.

"You could tell him, you know." Gavin said evenly as if he had read my mind and I glanced over at him to see that he was watching my facial expressions change.

"I could, but the consequences wouldn't be good. James would tell the whole family and the next thing you know, I'm being treated like a piece of china." I sighed and didn't say anything else.

"Maybe you should be treated like a glass of china. " Gavin said and I looked over at him sharply to see him lighting up a cigarette. I sighed again, giving up on the argument that had yet to start.

"Do you really need to light up here? Indoors, right outside the _hospital wing, _I might add?" I demanded staring at the ring of smoke that Gavin had just blown out of his mouth. He grinned at me.

"Don't talk down to me just because you quit, what? A month ago?" Gavin brought the cig back to his lips before blowing the smoke out again, this time in my face. I faked a cough while trying to ignore my longing to take a drag. Smoking would not help. Nope, a cigarette would not help me.

"Alright, give me one." I said finally, reaching for Gavin's pack, but he held them away from me with a cocky smirk.

"Nah, ah, ah, Mr. Potter. I mean, do you really need to light up here? Indoors, right outside the _hospital wing_?" Gavin quotes me and I flip him off before taking my board, dropping it to the floor, hopping on and pushing away from Gavin.

"See you tomorrow, Detroit." I shout and roll away easily, laughing slightly to myself once I'm out of his ear shot.

Gavin was such a sarcastic dick sometimes. He always pretended like he only cared about himself and getting ahead. It's why I used to hate him so much, but now that I've known him for a while, I can see how alike we really are. He's just more open about who he is than I am. That's why more people like me than Gavin. No one even knew I was a smoker. Though, this probably had something to do with my insomniac like tendencies.

_Insomniac tendencies, _I repeated those words in my head. Well, it was true. It was a side effect of my medicine. My sickness made me more tired and fatigued than the average middle-aged full time worker, my medicine worked to counteract this. Hence, I was full of energy. It was what allowed me to train on the Quidditch team for hours on end in a downpour or skateboard around Hogwarts until the sun rose and I had to get to the common room or risk getting caught after hours.

I typically slept seven hours every two days. On good days, that is. As the medicine is considered a treatment and _not _a cure, it doesn't always work. So when my treatment is not working _too _well, it doesn't work at all and I am left in detention for falling asleep in Transfiguration. Luckily, because I _do _end up awake for more than 24 hours, most of the time, I am never behind on homework. I'm ahead most of the time.

Besides, Professor Longbottom, or Uncle Neville, outside of Hogwarts, usually takes over my detentions and lets me take naps. I'm his favorite like that. Luckily, however, my medicine has been working excellently. Well, maybe not _exactly _as it should be, as I did pass out at a record time today, but my energy is there.

It gave me hope, despite what Healer John said about my immune system. I felt great, honestly. So did Gavin, from what I can tell. This, according to him, is too much. Gavin was always closed off like that though. He's openly stated that it disturbs him how I can tell what he's thinking just by glancing at him. I didn't really think about it too much.

As I approach a staircase leading down I take out my wand. _Glisseo, _is only a passing thought and the stairs flatten themselves into a slide. I allow myself to smirk slightly before sticking my wand back into my pocket. My hair is pushed back by the wind caused by how fast I'm riding down the stairs. Silent spells happen to be my specialty. It drives almost everyone in my family mad as some of the parentals still have problems with it. Mum always laughs that I rival Aunt Hermione when it comes to retaining knowledge.

An arrogant part of me believes I've already surpassed her knowledge at this age. After all, Aunt Hermione had to sleep and eat at some point. I, do not. Well, that's not completely true. I _do _have to eat and sleep, but I eat less and also sleep less. Who cares about the specifics though? I'm just good at silent spells.

As I hit the bottom of the staircase, I wave my wand behind me and cast the counterspell. I use the momentum from the slide to keep moving. I'm a bit of a lazy boarder so I try not to push myself too much, but of course, it is unavoidable. I push myself off to get a little more speed and began my journey to the kitchens. I could use a hot chocolate.

***Gavin***

The Slytherin common room was a dark green during the night. There was fire that had been charmed to burn green in the corner and it was the only light at this time of night. Despite being a Slytherin, I really hated the color green. It reminded me of trees, grass, and living things. It reminded me of the life I had to lose. Damn, I was depressing.

I plucked my wand from my pocket and studied it for a few moments before I pointed it at the fire. I paused there for a brief moment. I opened my mouth slightly and then closed it again. _Rectus! _I thought finally. I stared at the flames expectantly, but they stayed green and I sighed before I jumped around and flailed my arms slightly in a silent temper tantrum.

"_Rectus!"_ I said sharply and the fire returns to its natural color. Silent spells, were _not _my forte. I blamed my lack of talent on my talentless father. I blamed everything on him…because it was all his fault. Yeah.

"You're angry tonight." A voice came from behind me and I turned to see Scorpius Malfoy lying on the couch with a book covering his face.

"And you're lazy." I replied, rolling my eyes at the sight. Malfoy was on the Slytherin Quidditch team with me, but we didn't talk much. It was mostly because of Albus that we even knew what each other looked like. Slytherins, while not "evil" were not completely sentimental either. We were the ambitious house after all. Knowing everyone's faces was not necessary in getting through life and achieving goals. Not to guys like Malfoy and I anyway. Though being a right old sycophant _could _be helpful, I'd admit.

Either way, us insulting each other, is the closest Malfoy and I will ever get to friendship. We don't hate each other, but we don't particularly like each other either. I tend to be like that with most people, though. What can I say? Everyone's an asshole. Or am I the asshole? Probably both.

Malfoy retreats back into his mind as I make my way towards the set of stairs in the ground at the far corner of the room. Right by the staircase is a mirror and I stop there for a moment before going down.

The mirror is dusty on the ends, but clear of dirt where it matters. It's stupid really, like this whole dormitory was designed to be as creepy and cliche as possible. That wasn't what made me stop her, though. I was probably the only guy in this whole house that stopped to look at his reflection everyday, but it fulfilled something in me. Every night, before heading down into the deep depths of the earth, I would check my reflection.

I wasn't sure what I was expecting every time, because so far nothing had changed. Maybe, some small part of me, was waiting to look into the mirror and see someone dying. When I looked in the mirror, I didn't see someone dying, I saw me. I saw a full face, with a strong jaw, easy smirk, and forest eyes, that were forward in my face, not sunken. My hair was black and falling into my eyes and flipping at my ears, not white or falling out. I was muscular, fit from Quidditch, growing at an average rate. I looked healthy, handsome even, so how could I be dying? Where was the proof, doc? Where was the proof?

And maybe it's because of these thoughts, that I start to seize.


	3. Let's Live, Alright?

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

**Author's Note: Jane's Disease is not real, however the symptoms are, if you are experiencing these symptoms, please see a doctor.**

**Chapter Three: Let's Live, Alright?**

***Albus***

Gavin never seizes. So far, I have seen him vomit. That's it. Out of all the symptoms of Jane's disease, throwing up is the worst thing Gavin has had to deal with so far. His doctors have been optimistic about it, there have been talk of his treatment working. So, how is it, that after a year of being diagnosed and doing absolutely fine, that Gavin's body has decided to skip a symptom?

These are the kind of thoughts that run through my mind as I sit beside Gavin, who is laying in the same bed I was, just an hour before. It's almost funny that just an hour ago we had been worried about my four hour nap. Now this has happened. It's enough to make me open a window and light a cigarette the moment Madam Pomphry walks out of the room.

The taste of smoke is familiar to me, but it has been long enough since my last hit, that it gives me a bit of a headrush. However, it does calm my nervous a bit, which is good considering how quickly I had been getting nauseous. With my best friend passed out on a hospital bed, it seemed a little rude to be worrying about throwing up. Gavin hated puke.

I'm not sure how long I sit staring out the window, but at some point my cigarette becomes an ashy stub and I'm left staring at a blue sky holding a sun that I don't remember rising. I must be more out of it then I thought if a huge yellow ball of gas slipped passed me. I'm a seeker, for Merlin's sake! No matter what though, I'm still doing better than Gavin.

My eyes find his face and I search it for any signs of twitching, suggesting that he might wake up soon. Gavin's eyelids didn't even so much as flutter. Though, I'm sure, if he was awake, he'd make a wise-ass remark about how a real man's eyes don't _flutter_. However, he's not awake, I'm sitting on my ass feeling useless as fuck. Damn, I need another cigarette.

Five minutes pass and I'm starting to regain my nerve. I've never really been one to sit and be depressed, so now I'm just bored. Gavin will wake up in the next hour and we'll make a few jokes until we get all sentimental, because that is what Gavin and I do. We trick each other into talking about something that actually matters.

Guess I'll just have to take a nap until then.

* * *

Gavin wakes me up. Of course he does. I open my eyes to see him looking at me with a really intense expression that actually kind of scares me. I stare back at him because my brain has turned all the way back on yet and I'm not sure what else to do. This goes on for a second before Gavin decides to say something.

"I totally, just played chicken with Death." Gavin tells me, and his tone is excited, which is more than just strange. It's unnatural. On Gavin, anyway. Not to mention the fact that he just used death as a pronoun.

"What do you mean?" I ask him, because of course I'm curious, besides this is just too much like Gavin. It makes me stop and wonder why I was ever worried in the first place. Oh wait, because we're dying. Forgot about that for a second.

"Exactly what it sounds like. Okay, listen, right before my brain and body went to shit and started seizing, I was looking at my beautiful face in the mirror. Then I got all depressing and stuff, thinking about how I didn't even look like I was dying, because I'm so handsome and then, I was like: woah, man, I'm not dying, there is no proof. Then, bam! Seizure! Playing chicken with Death" The whole time Gavin is telling his story with a kind of brightness in his eyes and he said the story all in one breath. It would be impressive, really, if it didn't scare the hell out of me. Why was he so happy about tempting Death? I ask him.

"Because Albus! We're dying!" I don't understand Gavin, sometimes.

"What?" The way Gavin sighs now almost makes me laugh, as if _I'm _the one being ridiculous.

"I don't know how to explain. All I know, is that I'm dying and so are you. So… Let's live, alright?" The way Gavin looks at me here, for some reason, sets me off. I can't help it, I start to laugh harder than I have in a really long time. After a moment, Gavin joins me in laughing.

"I'm a fucking idiot, aren't I?" Gavin chuckles and I nod slightly, still laughing.

"You always have been, but that's not the point. I kind of get what you were saying?" I say thoughtfully and Gavin, who is still laying flat on his back, turns his head to look at me with a shit eating grin on his face.

"Oh good, because I didn't." Both of us take another moment to laugh again before I can get serious enough to explain.

"I think what your fried brain was trying to say is that even though we're dying, we should still enjoy our lives while it lasts." I say and I lean back in my chair, kicking my feet up on Gavin's bed, reminiscent to how he was sitting last night. Gavin and I stare at each other for a second before he turns his head to look at the ceiling.

"I don't know man, I mean, both of us have already gotten laid, what else is there?" Gavin's words are meant to be joking, but his tone is serious. I can understand why, Gavin has already accepted the fact that we're going to die, so the idea of living seems odd to him now. As for me, well, I guess I'm still clinging to some kind of hope for a cure. Shit, both of us are a mess.

"We'll figure it out." Is all I can tell him right now, but I know it's not enough. Though, I do believe it, we'll live until we're dead. Just like everyone else.

***Gavin***

Once my mind cleared, I felt like a dumbass. I'm going to live, because I'm dying? What the fuck? That's normally the kind of thing that comes out of Albus's pie hole, not mine. That seizure must have fucked my mind pretty hard. Well good for you illness, I hope you got a good hump in and now you're done, because I'd prefer not to be mind raped for the rest of my life. However long that is. My body felt like shit too.

According to Albus, I had beat his record and had slept for a total of nine hours. I tried to give him a high five, but he didn't seem as psyched as I was. Wonder what his problem was? Oh wait. Maybe he's tired? I'm an ass…

* * *

The more I think about Albus's explanation of my fried brain's verbal shit, the more I kind of agree with him. Just because Jane's disease cut our lives short, didn't mean we couldn't live more than everyone else. Well, not in the figurative sense, I suppose.

Where would he start, though? I've been dying for so long, (a year, really), that I wasn't sure I knew how to go out and live my life. I've heard of bucket lists, but those are meant for people who are lucky enough to have, or arrogant enough to think, that they have a hundred years looking them in the face. Albus and I didn't have a hundred years, we had one, two, at most. What did one do with a year? Go to school? No, I'd be damned if I rolled over dead in a History of Magic. That may be good enough for Professor Binns, or possibly Albus's crazy Aunt Hermione, but that wasn't good enough for me. That's it, my body will just have to fall off the Golden Gate bridge in San Fransisco who my heart finally gives out.

Or maybe I'll die climbing Mt. Everest. Wait, that's been done. Man, actually, a lot of people have died. Maybe I'll just kick the bucket at a Quidditch game. Albus's dad almost did that and it caused quite a bit of fuss. Then again, I'd still be home, so maybe it would defeat the whole purpose of going out and doing new things. Well, shit. I'm fucked.

I've never been good at the whole "finding meaning" thing. Ever since I became friends with Albus, I like to leave that part of the dying process to him. As for me, I took over the actual concept of death. Albus, for some _ridiculous_ reason, notice my sarcasm, has a hard time dealing with the idea of life ending. You'd think he would be cool with death considering his father almost died like, what, a zillion times? Though, Albus does life like no one else does. All saint like, wanting to save everyone. Must be a Potter thing. I guess I'll never know.

"Gavin, stop thinking, your face is turning red." Ah, _there _is my best friend! Wondered where he went.

"Are you implying that thinking is hard for me?" I ask him, glaring, but Albus just grins causing one of the girls who had come in with a headache earlier to squeak. We both glance at her briefly, deciding if we think she's pretty, like the asses we are. Well, the ass I am, though Albus isn't all saint.

"Wait, I'm sorry, I thought you were sorted into Slytherin? I thought thinking being a hardship was written in the handbook." Albus teases me, but I just flip him off.

"It is, but only because we don't normally have to think longer than a few seconds. Comes with being intelligent. I guess a Gryffindor wouldn't understand that." the same girl who squeaked says causing both Albus and I to look back over at her in shock.

Sure enough, once we look hard enough, a Slytherin badge is stitched into her robes. Also, she is pretty. Which is just as important as the being a Slytherin thing. Maybe more.

"I was just kidding." Albus tells her, putting on a charming smile that manages to cause the girl to blush, but not disarm.

"Of course you were, just not very well." she replies, but instead of insulting Albus, he simply looks at her curiously before his lips twitch up into a half smile. It's one of those grins that guys reserve for girls. I almost feel proud watching my buddy pick up a girl right in front of me. I watch the two of them, without saying anything, partially because of that pride, and also because I'm still a bit slow from my tap dance with Death. Or is it more of a tango? Huh, does Death tap dance? Does Death tango? _That's _the kind of question that researchers should be asking.

My very deep thoughts are soon interrupted by laughter, however. It's like they didn't even respect that fact that I was on the verge of a scientific breakthrough! Though, it was possible that it was because while a moment ago Slytherin girl had been about fifteen feet away, she was now one foot in front of Albus. Kid had game. I watched for a moment as the Slytherin girl battered her eyelashes one more time before she sashayed away. Albus turned back to look at me, grinning.

"Have fun?" I asked sarcastically and Albus just laughed, shaking his head.

"Slytherin girls are the best." He told me, but I just shrugged, I was a Ravenclaw guy myself, there was just something sexy about intelligence...and their hatred of me. Mmm, the best.

"Yeah, they're pretty okay." I agreed and we both turned to look at the door where the Slytherin girl walked out.

"Get her name?" I asked and Albus nodded.

"Michelle." he told me.

"Red head?" I ask, because I honestly can't remember.

"Yeah, like a chocolate auburn. Not a Weasley strand." Albus said, looking off towards the door, before shaking his head and turning back to me with a grin.

"She's pretty, but I've got more important things to deal with." I don't really like the way he grins at me when he says this.

"Like what?" I ask, kind of incredulous about the idea of something being more important than the opposite gender.

"Like living to stay with them, Gavin." That shuts me up pretty quickly.


	4. Indifference and Passion

**Chapter Three: Indifference and Passion Are the Deciders Between Life and Death**

**Disclaimer: My views are not reflected in this chapter. I apologize for any offense, these are purely the thoughts of a person who is ignorant to religion.**

**Author's Note: Jane's Disease is not real, however the symptoms are, if you are experiencing any of these symptoms, please talk to a doctor.**

***Albus***

For reasons that I cannot explain, I find myself sitting in a chair in the common room, smoking a cigarette. If I was trying to explain what I was doing at this exact moment, the easy thing to say would be that I'm in the middle of skipping Herbology. It was the explanation after that, the why, that was much more difficult to explain.

Gavin would say that I'm rebelling and taking my life back from the social prison that the world calls school. _I, _however, would say that I'm taking a day off. Gavin, since figuring out that he is dying, has gone from blaming his problems solely on his father, to allowing our illness to share some of the blame. It is his excuse for everything. If Gavin was sitting here, not me, the reason would be because dying is much harder today than it is any other day. For me, I'm just being lazy.

I wished I could blame my problems on the world like Gavin did, but I just couldn't. I wished that I could blame a God that I didn't know on my problems, but I couldn't do that either. I couldn't even bring myself to blame my own body. Jane's Disease is contracted in 1 of every million people, but I didn't blame whatever circumstances caused me to be one of those unlucky few.

I couldn't blame anyone or anything, because I couldn't bring myself to feel any emotion towards these things. Gavin could, because he was passionate, he wanted to live with every fiber of his being, despite how shitty he said that his life was. Gavin was pissed at everyone for what has happened to him. He was _alive_. Here I sat though, in my comfy chair, smoking a cigarette, simply because I didn't feel like going to class. Simply because I did not feel anything at all.

This complete lack of emotion towards my situation bothers me because I am not normally like this. It is an empty world and empty life without emotions. Colorless. When I first found out that I had this disease, I remember feeling a mixture of anger and sadness. I had been angry and sad, because my early death meant that I would not be able to make my mark on the world. Now, I was aware that I still needed to do that, but I couldn't find the will to actually do it. Somewhere in this year of being sick, I gave all of my hope of life to Gavin, who was too passionate to die. He didn't know that though, because if he did, he would just claim that I was being self pitying, which was true, but I didn't want to be told that.

Merlin, I hated these days. These days where my lack of energy from my medicine made me feel so indifferent towards everything. I could only look at things coldy, during this time, with stone cold rationality. However, it was also refreshing. Apparently, in my everyday life, I wasn't as rational as I could be with my romantic views of the world. It was perhaps why I was dying: natural selection was wiping out the weak hearted. So why was Gavin being taken out? Strong people with strong personalities and spirits like Gavin, who have been toughened up by life, were above natural selection. These thoughts only proved the randomness of the world.

I had not grown up believing in a God, so my thoughts on a higher power are shaky at best. Though I would admit to thinking of a God amongst all the chaos was both comforting and terrifying. As I had no set beliefs it allowed my mind to wonder at all the possibilities. Gavin and I's hardships under a kind God, could be seen as tests, but under another we could possibly being punished. Or maybe it is neither and it _is _simply put, random. These were thoughts that I shared with no one, not even Gavin, because they would not be taken well. In some ways, these thoughts are insulting to religions and I do not mean to harm anyone with my curiosity. I simply look forward to finding out what there really is behind the curtain of life and under the veil of death.

So here I was, sitting in the common room, in a comfy chair, smoking a cigarette and skipping Herbology. Here I was thinking about the universal question. Here I sat, with my mind too full and my emotions perfectly blank. There was nothing to be done about it today. I would simply have to get over myself once more and go back to my romantic views of life. Things were much simpler that way and that was the only way I knew how to live life anymore.

I had no idea what that meant for me. Could I only live and look at my life in black and white? It seemed pathetic. I couldn't tell Gavin to keep believing in a chance if I didn't agree with what I was saying 100%. I'd be a hypocrite. Worst of all, I couldn't decide if that was something ever teen felt or if it was just a side effect of dying. Ugh, the last thing I needed was a fucking identity crisis!

"Albus? Are you _smoking?_" I looked up from the window, mid flick of the stog, and I'm frozen. Right in front of me is James Sirius Potter, my one and only older brother.

"Oh shit." I don't bother to make my curse quieter as James and I stared at each other with equal looks of horror.

No one in my family knew that I smoked. This was mostly due to the fact that most of the time I _wasn't _smoking. When I was smoking though, it was usually late at night during my bursts of energy and I always showered after. I may be a semi-addicted smoker, but I hated having the smell of smoke on my body. With showering and magic, as well as the fact that I wasn't kissing anyone frequently, I was able to hide my smoking. That was obviously no longer an option now, though. Unless I _obliviated _him, but seriously, I was absolutely not going to cast a spell on my brother. That was just not cool.

"Since fucking when did you _smoke_?" James asked me, throwing his hand out in a wild gesture at the cancer stick in my hand.

"Um." I said, not really willing to lie to him, but not wanting to confess either. James picked up on this easily and his eyes widened.

"This obviously isn't your first, because you aren't wheezing, and based on your reaction to seeing me catch you smoking, it's been happening long enough for it to be a secret. My only question is _why_ does it need to be a secret?" James is too smart sometimes.

"I wouldn't say it was a secret, necessarily. You just weren't around when I pulled one out and it hasn't come up in daily conversation." I answer honestly, because it's true. I had no reason to keep smoking a secret it just happened to work out that way.

"Then why did you freak when you saw me?" My brother questioned, crossing his arms and squinting at me as if he was studying me. I threw my hands up, a gesture both of us shared, in a sort of shrug.

"I don't know! Probably because you would freak out, just like you did!" I retorted and James pondered this for a moment.

"You know it's not good for you right?" James told me and I roll my eyes at his words. Drinking alcohol wasn't healthy either, but that didn't stop him after every Quidditch victory.

"Yeah, yeah. Are you going to tell?" I'm not really concerned about James telling anyone. Even if my parents found out, the most they would do is lecture me on my health, and really, like I wasn't _acutely _aware of my health at all times.

"Maybe. What do I get out of it?" James grins and I groan at my older brother for acting like such a cliche.

"I'll do your next ten detentions." I tell him, because, well, I can. The only difference between James and I in appearance is his freckles and the fact that my eyes are green not brown. Well, and that I don't wear glasses, but either way all of these traits can easily be charmed on.

"Deal." James tells me and gives me his hand to shake. I shake my big bro's hand and sigh at the prospect of doing so many detentions. Like my life isn't already being controlled enough. This better not interfere with Quidditch. Or my getting my medicine. Both are pretty important.

***Gavin***

Madam Pomphry wouldn't let me leave the Hospital Wing until the next morning and because Albus had class, I was all alone. The thing about being alone was the silence that goes along with it. So does boredom.

It seemed as if most of my day was meant to be spent staring off into space and listening to the ringing that I always got in my ears whenever it go _too _quiet. It was in these moments that I wished I was into reading. I knew that if Albus was in here right now, he'd be reading a book. Some kind of novel where the guy goes through a series of tasks, is betrayed, gets back on his feet, saves the day, and gets the girl, because sure those stories were interesting enough.

I actually liked stories and I could see the appeal in reading. However, it seemed I had been cursed to be unable to keep my attention on one thing for too long. Movies were different, because it was right there in front of you, especially 3-D movies, but reading was something that demanded you to use your imagination and I sucked at that. From what I could tell, growing up in a place where everything sucked could either do one of four things to you.

One: You could become a saint. You don't want others to know the same hardships you have and so you try to save people. You develop some kind of hero-complex and all the Harry Potter jazz.

Two: You become bitter and hate anyone who ever had it good in life. The hardships make you want other people to feel that same hurt. Classic Voldemort, eh?

Three: You don't do either of the first two options. You push aside your past and grow up to be a normal person. Simply put, you don't want to be the people who fucked you up, but you won't try to help anyone else in that situation either, not because you want them to suffer, but because you're living your life. I like to think of this one as me, though with my special hint of asshole, of course.

Four: You grow up to be a basic douchebag who does that same thing done to them, learning absolutely nothing from their struggle. Talking to you, Charles Detroit! Or should I say dad? I guess it didn't matter either way. Dick.

I let out a very audible groan as my mind seems to become more and more constipated. I sort of hated thinking. It was a weird thing to hate, but I really couldn't stand anything more profound than what I thought of one girl's ass or one guy's attitude. Yeah, I just wasn't that sentimental, what could I say? Guess, I'll just blame dad again. Thanks Charles.

Without really thinking about it, I grab my wand, and summon my laptop and headphones. Technically, technology isn't _supposed _to work in magical areas, but when your best friend's uncle happened to be someone like Arthur Weasley, well things like that seem to stop applying. While I wait for my things, I am briefly concerned at the possibility of damage that could come to be on the potentially delicate equipment. Do summoning spells take that sort of thing into account? Will my laptop round the corners of the castle or will it come clunking up that stairs and hit random corners on it's way? Was I the first person to think of this? God, if I die with no one realizing my unlocked genius...well I guess I would just _die_. Damn. My death really would be a _crying _shame.


End file.
